[size=90]Hino felt no need to hide her mind as so many did--even honest folk who'd lead honest lives tended to hide their thoughts for the most part she'd noticed and never been offended by, for Hino was a hard girl to offend. She let her thoughts drift aimlessly over what she knew of Mugi, picking up on thoughts from past lives about salamanders and dragons but generally staying with this life cycle. She smiled at Leonard's statement. Yes, Mugi could speak.
He is unusual for salamanders, she told him after a long moment; it took a bit to bring her back from salamanders in general. She picked a few of those thoughts out and showed them to him. Salamanders relaxing in hearth fires mostly, keeping the home safe and warm. She showed him Mugi conversing with a brownie--and then Mugi thought to speak up. Or, hiss up, as it were.
"Wizard-wizard is not what you are to be called then?" he asked, pulling his long tail around to hold it like a child holding his blanky, yet it looked elegant on him. More like a woman absently toying with the train of her dress. "Then...wizard, yes? You are of the shaded variety--'dark'. My old master was like you. He tasted as if he had done evil and could do evil again, but he was a good man, in his way. You are like him, yes?" The image in his mind was dull and colorless; like an old photograph saved from the fire. The salamander's memory was 'not so good' any more, as he would say. "He taught me this language, and others. He taught me magics that a salamander is not born to know." Unlike many creatures speaking of the past, Mugi sounded neither wistful nor sad. In fact, if anything, he sounded pleased. But mostly it was just him conveying a story; nothing more and nothing less. To say that he 'missed' the dark wizard was wrong for he felt no longing for the long-dead man's presence. More accurately, he had thoroughly enjoyed the time they'd spent together and would enjoy seeing the man again, but at the moment he was content with his circumstances. Although he shared Leonard's dislike for that moment--he was not particularly fond of male laps, but sitting on the desk seemed more dangerous than strictly necessary. Stealth was a worthy reason for discomfort.
Hino's heart twisted painfully at the feel of the wizard's anguish, and she sympathized, for she had seen the memories and she remembered--in a distant, past-life way--what such things were like, though those memories flittered away from her grasp and she briefly wished she were older so that she could see them but knew it was best that she not. Instead of saying anything, she sent both Dulson and Everine a memory of flight, flying as only a phoenix knew, for a phoenix had no limitations. She remembered, for wizard and hawk, soaring so high that the planes looked like little wasps gliding over a blanket of pale blue and white, and above was only stars and shadows. Sometimes her fire would go out from lack of oxygen and she would start to freeze and plummet, but the atmosphere would light her up again and she would fall faster than any other, only to swoop up at the last moment with a scream of triumph and bliss. And she showed them the warmth to be found at the core of an active volcano, wingtips skimming across lava deep below as the smoke and heat haze made pictures around her and fire spirits danced around. She missed those times; they were not so long ago. She gave them the feeling of longing too and an offering to stay with them as comfort while they met with the headmaster, all conveyed in wordless thoughts and emotions full of the innocence of an honest and happy person.
Kelpie reluctantly agreed with the spectre, turning to look again at the nix. She was glad to see the lid in place once more, but that intoxicating smell lingered still. A sigh escape her and she covered her nose discreetly, focusing for real on the teacher. More for something to do than out of any actual interest naturally. She noted with interest the comment about the fountain, then remembered it with disgust. There was no way in the seven Hells that she was going to swim with all those creatures. She'd rather not swim at all, thank you very much. Since coming to the school, for the first time in her life she'd felt kinship for others of the watery inclination, but nothankyou; swimming in a little fountain with God only knows how many others was not conducive to a happy kelpie, particularly not a kelpie like Jake.